Punch: Punch (100.1891)

February 21, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

89

OLD TIMES REVIVED.

"What ! when London Assurance is going off so well every night,
isn't it a pity that it should go ofi altogether ? Chables Wyndham

as Dazzle is
delightfully
flashy, and
Fabben as
the old beau,
SirHar-court.
admirable.
Miss Moore
charming,
Mrs. Beere
bright and
sparkling ;
B otjbchieb

quite up to
"the Oxo-
nian " mark
of Tom and
Jerry;
BLAKELEy

delicious, and
Giddens as
good a Dolly
Spanker as
you'd wish to
see. It's too
good to be
'"taken ofi."
Not that the
Jpiece itself is
'a perfect gem.
but the act-
ing ! Tout est Id. Oddsfish, your Majesty, Chables Rex, Merry
Monarch of the Cri, don't remove it altogether, but let us have
it just once or twice a week during the season. Charles, "our
friend," do! It's worth while, if but to see you sitting carelessly
at the end of the piece in that chair, b.h., as if you didn't care for
anything or anybody. Only—cut the tag and come to the Curtain.

Horrible! Do you think our lower orders would become discon-
tented, and strike, if they had not seen matches doing it first ?
Still more horrible!

Finally, you strike a match that never struck you, that never
offended you in any way. Is that just, or even manly P Yet, in
nine cases out of ten, the law takes no notice of the offence.

" To get a light, or because others do it" Are you not convinced
now that, when you use these words, you are not speaking the
truth ?

ill.

I do not think I ever met anybody who was quite as moral, or
quite as original, as I am. You should give a complete set of my
works to each of your children. I might have generalised on the ill-
effects of those vices from a special case—my own case. Had I done
so, I could have got it printed. I can get anything printed that I
write. I preferred to take a newer line, and to show you how vile
you are when you use matches. Everything is vile. But you are
wondering, perhaps, how a great novelist becomes a small faddist.
You must wait till next month, and then read my article on the im-
morality of parting one's hair with a comb. A common table-fork is
the only pure thing with which one can part one's hair. Comb3
deaden the conscience. But more of this anon.

THE ETHICS OE MATCH-BOXES.

Count Dollstoi.
{Intended for a Contemporary, but found to be too short.)

i.

What is the true explanation of the use which people make of
matches—of safety matches, wooden matches, wax matches, and,
less commonly, of fusees ? Ask any man why he uses such things,
and he will tell you that he does it to get a light, or because others do it.

Is this true P You will probably think so. Let us examine the
question. _ Why does a man hold his hand in front of a match when
he lights it in the street P To screen it from the wind, or to hide it
from the sight of passers-by ? Why do ladies leave the dinner-table
before the men begin to smoke ? To avoid the smell of tobacco—
which is well known to be aromatic, healthy, and delightful—or
because the natural modesty of women shrinks from witnessing the
striking of a match f Why, in a rail way-carriage, do you hold
your fusee out of window when you light it ? Is it because you
do not care about being half-choked—a paltry plea—or is it to
conceal from, young persons who may be in the carriage the sparkle
which must inevitably remind them of wicked and alluring eyes ?

" To get a light, or because others do it." Is that true ? Do not
trifle with the question. Read all my works. Do not get them
from a contemptible circulating library, but buy them.

n.

Some_ may not yet be convinced that the striking of matches is
suggestive and immoral. To me nearly everything is suggestive,
but there are some stupid persons in England. I will be patient
with them, and give them more evidence.

A wax match is called a vesta. Who was Vesta ? But this is
too horrible. I cannot pursue this point in a periodical which is
read in families. I can only refer you to the classical dictionary,
and remind you that everything must infallibly suggest its opposite.
Again, there are matches which strike only on the box. It distresses
me to write these words. The idea of " onlyness," of restriction,
must bring matrimony to the mind of everyone. If you do not
know what I think about marriage, buy The Xreutzer Sonata. It
is not customary to have more than one wife. Consequently, any-
thing which has one in it—as, for instance, the date of William the
Conojctebob—reminds me of marriage, and is, therefore, degrading.
Why, the very word "match" suggests marriage; and yet we
allow young children to sell whole boxes of them in the streets.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

What is this the Baron reads in the D. T. of Feb. 9, and in the
Daily Graphic of the same date ? Here is a portion of the extract
from the D. T. .—" The Monthly Meeting of that quaint Literary
Society, 'Ye Odd Volumes,' at Limmer's Hotel, brought together
not merely a goodly show of the Volumes themselves, but an
unusually large array of visitors," and then follows the distinguished
list, the crowning point being reached when we come to the name
of "The Baron de Book-Worms of Punch," and in the Daily
Graphic the daring reporter goes a step farther, as, after giving the
name of a certain honoured guest, he parenthetically explains that
this academical convive is the " Baron de B.-W.! " Erreur ! I, the
Baron de B.-W., being of sound mind and body, hereby declare that
the Baron himself was not present. And why ? Well, do my
readers remember the honest milk-maid's retort to the coxcomb who
said he wouldn't marry her ? Good. Then, substituting " me " for
" you," and "he "for "she," the Baron can adopt the maiden's
reply. After this, other reasons would be superfluous.

How came the reporter to fall into so great an error ? Who mis-
informed him ? A worthy henchman, as indignant as was
Sam Wetter when he found his beloved master's name trifled with,
writes to ask me, '' Ain't nobody to be whopped for takin' this here
liberty, Sir ?" With the immortal Mr. Pickwick, the Baron
replies, " Certainly not. Not on any account." And, whatever that
sturdy henchman may murmur to himself, he at once obeys. '' Bring
me my books ! " cries the Baron, "I am off to the review."

The Baron's Deputy writes, that he has again been steeping himself
in poetry, and reports as follows :—Ionica (Geobge Allen) is a little
volume, which no admirer of true poetry should fail to possess. The
author now calls himself W. Cory, but he was known by a different
name to many generations of Etonians. His Muse generally wears
a classical robe, but her speech is always delightfully musical.
She has beautiful cadences, that haunt the memory like some
old Volkslied. In spite of a careless confusion between " thou" and
"you," I defy anybody to read " Heraclitus" to take only one
instance, without a sense of pleasure which will compel him to learn
the two verses by heart, But the Muse is pathetic, playful, and
patriotic, too, when the occasion fits, and, whatever she sings, she
sings with genuine taste and feeling. Would that we might hope
for more of her pure music. So far the Deputy.

Was that eccentric character in David Copperfield nameless,
who was represented as sitting in some sort of slop-shop, wheezing
out fiercely, "0 my lights and liver! 0 goroo, goroo 1" I think
Dickens didn't give him a name, good or bad; but his constant
repetition of the above outlandish exclamations has impressed
upon him an awful and terrific personality, which places him
among the more popular creations of Dickensian genius. Of what is
this a propos? you will ask the Baron. "Well," he will make
reply, "it is d propos of cookery books, and bookery cooks; the
latter being those who are not above teaching themselves from the
sacred books of Cookery, and who can put in practice the lessons they
learn therein. Now," quoth the Baron, "let me recommend you to ask
at Chapman and Hall's for Hilda's ' Where Is It' of Recipes, a
work got up as simply and substantially as a good dinner should be,
with ' pages in waiting,' quite blank, all ready for your notes,—the
book, like a dining-table, being appropriately interleaved ; and there
is, happy thought, a pencil in the cover-side most handy for the
intending Lucullus." The season of Lent is an excellent one for
cookery-books, because you can be studying for the dinner-giving
season, and then—do not forget the generally excellent advice of
your friend, The Bakon de Book-Worms.